A Reveling Desire
by TheGreySpecies
Summary: Harry and Ron are hiding something; a naturally inquisitive specimen, Hermione is resolute that she would unravel their enigma, but when the effort proves ineffective, her frustration begins to boil. - Friendship. Oneshot.


**A Reveling Desire: Oneshot.**

**Disclaimer**: Hi-Per, Anna-Lie-Sis. Hi-per Anna-lie-sis. You should try it.

Hi.

Bye.

:)

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><p>A peculiar banal afternoon greeted the quarrelsome Hogwarts grounds. The lake rippled serenely, heedlessly impervious to the depravities of life; the iron spikes of the wicked ground permeated with feigned splashes of green. Wind occasionally surfed along the glorious slopes of the mountains, and the sun smiled benevolently at the sight.<p>

The building, however, cowered with mercy, for an unusual resident endured the opulence of its compassion. With plates served for the wealth of majesties, the landscape quenching the eye's thirst for greed, and free reign respectfully provided, one resident, in particular, deceived the luxury with his very presence.

Indeed, Harry Potter was particularly sedulous to this aspect.

Harry Potter, to be frank, was especially seductive to trouble. Throughout his – particularly precarious – residence at Hogwarts, the school had experienced a climatic plight, one that spiked disarray groups to quarrel whether his presence was rewarding, or simply, scandalous.

But, of course, whether they established a peace treaty or declared the establishment of war, Harry didn't mind. In fact, this peculiar banal year, Harry remained entirely impervious to the slightest plight or dilemma roasting on a peg, as his eyes flickered dully through the book perched on his lap. Sixth year was simply a laborious year.

Harry sighed and continued, tenaciously resolute that he would finish the chapter until lunch arrived. He leaned towards the chair beside him to reach towards his Quill; settled, he then resumed his position with his knuckles towards his chin. Tapping the Quill incessantly on the armchair, he clenched his eyes for a moment, rubbed his eyes, and elicited a sigh once more.

Irresistibly, his eyes then flickered about the unruly room, and during this incessant process, he spotted the exacerbating cauldron of gold perched ruthlessly beside him: Quidditch Through the Ages, and his conscious groaned exasperatedly.

He had to finish this damn book!

Consequently, he straightened up, furrowed his eyebrows in relative obduracy, and ducked his head resolutely towards the former repulsive bubotuber pus, and continued reading. A patient minute breezed by until his heaven snickered occasionally, and the brooms flashed endearingly, did Harry, finally, feeling the fragile thread of endurance perish, shoulder his Transfiguration book away to form a path for the approaching Quidditch entertainment.

A minute later, Harry was content, and dawdling wasn't an option.

But the teasing clock seemed to deceive him, for, immediately after he had contently settled on his desired armchair and his flavored book, did the Portrait swing open, revealing another distraction for the deprived man's soul, and Harry resisted the urge to groan audibly.

He watched astutely from the rims of his glasses and the top edge of the book towards the gallant Gryffindor approaching, blissfully impervious to his mate's personal space, and without further ado, the gallant Gryffindor tossed himself onto a couch and bluntly stated his intentions.

"We need to talk," Ron stated succinctly that Harry blinked from behind the book. For a moment, Harry rummaged through his mind in an attempt to identify his mate's point, but he couldn't recall anything; naturally inquisitive, Harry adopted a questioning gaze.

"About Hermione?" Ron elaborated obviously, as if expecting Harry to be a Legilmens; but Harry, bless his soul, furrowed his eyebrows in poorly concealed astonishment. Ron had finally acknowledged his feelings, then?

"Er―" Harry struggled to search for the proper diction. Should he complement him for a job well done? "Okay . . .?"

Ron, a natural at his mate's expression, furrowed his eyebrows similarly when he insinuated that Harry wasn't following along. "You do know what next week is, then, don't you?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes when a thought dawned on him at Ron's intentions. "Right. Quidditch tryouts," he sighed, growing uncomfortable with the topic. "'Course."

Ron appeared taken aback, and Harry immediately concluded that he was wrong. "Well – yeah, but ― oh, come on, September nineteenth?" Ron pressed when Harry frowned, feeling exceptionally inferior in intelligence. "Hermione? Can't you count?"

Harry scowled at the comment, but diverted his eyes away to stare towards the fireplace, and, finally, the thought dawned on him, and he reverted his attention to Ron with a dawning revelation apparent on his countenance. He caught sight of the lingering grin tugging Ron's lip.

They silently agreed.

"Library?"

"Library."

And for the first time, without an exacerbating specimen coaxing them, the two males willingly raced towards the library, leaving the solemn books and Quills in solitary confinement.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, a bushy brown-haired specimen was diligently marching towards the Common Room where she had initially left her fellow slothful best friends, and Hermione adjusted her fortune of books, and attentively prodded the Portrait open with her foot just as it was precariously beckoning its return to its original position from a person in front of her, and Hermione Granger entered the room.<p>

Her fastidious eyes narrowed as they observed the evidence of her friends' carelessness. She sighted her friends' tossed books, Quills, and parchments pouting mournfully for anyone's assistance from their position on the floor, and the indifferent Hermione huffed audibly, stomped up to her dormitory, dumped a book or two, and with her rucksack clutching tightly to her, she began her search for her children.

And yes – children.

She thoroughly investigated the castle, subconsciously avoiding the library. Of course they wouldn't be there, particularly not willing. After about a quarter of an hour, a panting Hermione relented reluctantly. Deciding not to waste any more time, she pleaded for comfort from the library, and when she stepped in, as usual, she felt the familiar surge of pleasure crawl up her spine when she breathed in the smell of books, and for a moment, thoughts of Harry and Ron faded from her mind as she settled in her sanctuary.

Humming to herself, she approached the Charms sections with the intention of starting her essay, which was initially due on Tuesday, but Flitwick had reverted it to Monday, so she might as well start now. But as Hermione maneuvered around the bookshelves, she halted unexpectedly and simply stared, struggling to suppress her eye from twitching irritably.

Hermione's observance had detected a slight flaw in the plan; in fact – with queer astonishment – the very thought of the essay was blown by a sharp needle, leaving remnants of the thought showering Hermione's bushy hair with sheer absurdity.

Her astute memory couldn't recall a time when _Harry and Ron _had willingly lounged in the library, especially when she wasn't there to prod them. The only time she could actually confirm this was during the Triwizard Tournament, but that had been years ago.

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she collected her materials and approached them attentively and furtively, wary of attracting their attentions; she was behind them. She watched astutely as they crossed something out on a parchment, Harry throwing in some suggestions, and Ron nodding his flaming head for approval, and Hermione, unable to connect the dots, interposed.

"What are you two doing?" she demanded austerely; Merlin, if they were up to any trouble . . .

"Oh, hey, Hermione," Ron greeted her casually, tapping the Quill on the table whilst a frown visible on his countenance. He didn't turn to look at her, and Hermione appeared scandalized.

"How's Arthimaticy?" Harry greeted her likewise, levitating a chair for her to join them, and Hermione frowned disapprovingly at the sight, but nevertheless, relented and allowed the topic to steer towards refreshment – just a bit.

"Oh, the usual," Hermione sighed, rummaging through her rucksack for her Charms textbook. She set it on the table as she elaborated. "Professor Vector gave us loads of homework, mind you. I don't know if I'll be able to finish my Charms essay in time."

"Oh – come on," Ron interjected loudly, causing a few glares his direction; ironically, he remained oblivious. "You're Hermione Granger, you'll manage."

"Well, I don't know if I'll manage with you the two of you around," Hermione snapped, an image of the mess she had left in the Common Room teasing her blind eyes; Harry and Ron, however, glanced at each other knowingly before glancing away in an attempt to mitigate her vexation. "Honestly, haven't you managed _anything _productive since I've gone?" glancing at the two, she concluded with a biting tone, "I suppose not. We've got a Transfiguration essay due tomorrow, the least you could've done was that."

"But we _are _doing something productive, Hermione," Ron interposed convincingly, confident in the shadow obscuring her vision. Hermione, however, crossed her arms ominously.

"And what's that?"

"Er―" Ron glanced helplessly at Harry, who shrugged in response; Ron glared at him as he turned away, "Well, we're writing – er. . . our Transfiguration essay! Right. Let's start, then, shall we?"

He reached for his rucksack, suddenly realizing that he was reaching for sniggering air. Eliciting a series of curses, he stood up, and sprinted back to the Common Room, leaving Harry vulnerable to Hermione's sharp glare.

"Er―" Harry cringed. He tripped on his feet as he stood up and saluted with a poorly concealed grimace. "Have a nice day, Hermione."

And he left.

* * *

><p>Mornings later greeted an irritable lady naturally tromping along the hallways on her way back from class. Glaring at appalled portraits, her bushy-hair bounced with each step, and the oblivious obstacles she maneuvered around could hear her incessant muttering: "idiots" or "absurd."<p>

Successfully weaving her way into the Great Hall, she found the usual sight of "idiots" eating, chewing, and taking notes.

For what? The lingering question was the cause for her irritation.

She had simply been shoved to the side for the first time since she had befriended the "idiots". For the past week, they hadn't thoroughly acknowledged her presence, her comments were ignored, and her lectures were met with exasperation (not peculiar, mind you).

But Hermione refused to permit insecurity to blur her vision, but she couldn't help it. She thought they were a "trio", not a "duo," but she supposed that they had finally lost interest with her, particularly with her nagging and unflinching loyalty. However, despite herself, she couldn't coax herself into joining them, especially when they were currently laughing and joking. Firmly denying the lump in her throat, she chose a secluded spot by the doors and delved into the security of books. But for the first time, they felt a bit – foreign.

As soon as she finished, she collected her materials and swept away, leaving two pairs of eyes following her out of sight.

Hermione – punctual to a fault – was first to arrive to class. Still irritable – and slightly dismayed – she inadvertently slammed the bag on the table while tossing herself onto the bench. While anxiously waited for class to start, she was greeted by two impressive shadows flooding her table. Resolute, she refused to glance towards them. When she finally surrendered and peered up, pushing her hair out of her face, she was greeted by pleasant smiles from the two of them.

"Hey, Hermione." They chorused, and Hermione – being, well, Hermione, blamed her insecurity solely on stress, as she managed a relented smile, albeit a small one.

"What happened to you at lunch?" Ron asked obliviously, frowning at her. "You were sitting on your own."

And Hermione couldn't help it.

"I was managing something productive, Ron." She narrowed her eyes at her partner in bickering.

"And what's that? Studying?"

The flame was lit.

"Yes, Ron. _Studying_! Isn't that what you're in school for?"

"I'm in school because," Ron pointed at the feather part of the Quill towards Hermione in emphasize,"my _parents _forced me into it. I could've stayed home, y'know, hired a tutor or something." Meanwhile, Harry indulged himself into doodling with only his eyes peeking from the fold of his arms.

"A tutor wouldn't teach half the stuff they teach at school! How're you going to learn the practical parts of Human Transfiguration or Charms or Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione debated fiercely, oblivious to the tiny Flitwick tapping his foot beneath her sight. "You can't! There's a reason they're called experts―" and Flitwick finally charmed books to reach the height of the desk with an irritated look about him. "Oh," Hermione squeaked, turning flashing pink while ducking her head in shame; the whole class was watching the scene. "Sorry, Professor."

And when the tiny Professor finally hopped down from his makeshift stool, Hermione tossed Ron a murderous glare. Irritated, Ron scowled back as they turned away from each other.

Harry, however, imperviously set coal to the flame. "Nice performance," he said, stretching his back and chuckling. "I'd pay for the drama."

He earned a whack on the head, and a vile comment spoken with "dramatic" of profanity that the owner to this comment received a whack as well.

And the day merrily swept past them, a mundane day for the trio, and Hermione, despite her morning emotional turmoil, found herself reluctantly smiling and replying to their absurd gestures behind Flitwick's back, feeling guilty as well. But she couldn't help it; she had her friends again, her slothful and reckless friends.

And as soon as she settled this notion, it trembled and collapsed abruptly onto its supporting pillars.

* * *

><p>After class, they were on their way to their free period with Hermione naturally accompanied them, albeit subconsciously. Unbeknownst to Hermione, however, her company resorted Harry and Ron to appear slightly alarmed.<p>

"Where d'you think you're going?" Ron frowned as he steered her by the shoulder. Hermione appeared astonished by this demand.

"We're going to study, aren't we?" she asked in surprise, her countenance adopting cynicism.

"Study?" Ron asked, astounded. He placed a hand on her back as he led her towards a corner of the corridor with Harry, appearing slightly guilty, in tow. "No, no, no, not now. Harry and I," he gestured towards the subject, who waved weakly when Hermione pierced him with a look. "We've got stuff to do – er – on our own," Hermione narrowed her eyes, and he sighed, "Listen, why don't you head on up to the Quidditch field―?"

"And we'll be in library – if you need us," Harry finished with a grin, gradually moving backwards. Ron laughed as he joined his pace. Chorusing "bye, Hermione" and bearing mutual grins, they left with their cloaks swishing behind them, leaving the inquisitive Hermione with narrowed eyes, a scowl, and a mind fuming with fuel.

What _were _they up to?

With that enigma in tow, she obediently proceeded towards her respectful _Common Room _with the thought anchoring her down. She silently vowed to herself that she would unravel their mystery, just as she had done with the Chamber of Secrets, and Hermione Granger was loyal to her promises. Settling down on a table, Hermione proceeded with her homework. As soon as she finished, she heaved her brown eyes away from her books to glance towards the window, and she elicited a gasp when she realized that it had been a while since she had contacted her parents.

Gathering her materials, she tucked them away to her dormitory and returned to the Common Room to formulate a letter. When she felt satisfied, she swiftly signed it and exited the Common Room with the intention of sending her letter.

However, she encountered slight predicament.

It seems she had inadvertently participated in an challenge, and Hermione Granger was known to blast a challenge to smithereens. As soon as she had turned the corner and had entered the Owlery, her eyes widened as she caught sight of a familiar scene. Again, they were standing with their backs towards her, and she could only account a mop of messy black hair and his partner's flaming hair. It looked as if they were debating about something, and the sight immediately reminded the observant Hermione of the kings of mischief: Fred and George.

Naturally, her hair adopted electricity.

Furtively, adopting an effective skill from Ginny, Hermione attentively approached the two, simultaneously wishing she had "borrowed" Harry's Invisibility Cloak. Craning her neck to peer from behind their tall frames, she strained to eye what they were arguing about, and she saw it was a parchment again. Curious, she tried for a step closer but cursed when Harry, a perpetual habit of his, allowed his eyes to flicker about the room in thought. Hermione blinked when she locked eyes with him, and he absentmindedly looked away. She almost resorted to sighing in relief when Harry doubled back, and caught sight of her again.

Hermione scowled when he elbowed Ron towards her, looking half-amused and half-exasperated by her innate curiosity.

"Oh, come on," Ron started, chuckling exasperatedly as he turned around towards her, and Hermione caught sight of the parchment he casually stowed away. "You aren't going to let it go, are you?"

Hermione, however, crossed her arms.

"I want to know if you're doing anything illegal."

"Come off it―" Ron exclaimed, but was immediately cut off by Harry.

"We aren't doing anything illegal, Hermione."

She pinned her glare to Harry now.

"Well, how would I know that? You two've been keeping secrets from me for weeks," Hermione emphasized, her tone rivaling Molly Weasley's, "If you haven't been doing anything illegal, why won't you tell me about it, then?"

She was met with firm silence.

Harry and Ron surreptitiously glanced at each other for a moment before Harry swept forward to steer her deeper within the confinements of the Owlery. "Look, Hermione, we'll tell you about it soon, okay? We just – we don't want you getting involved – nothing dangerous, mind you," he added hastily when Hermione opened her mouth to retort, "It's something we've got to do on our own, but I promise we'll tell you all about it soon," Hermione retained her frown, but relented reluctantly, accepting the sincerity; in midst of her dismay, she missed the two exchanging parchments outside of her peripheral vision. "In the meantime, why don't you try riddling it out for yourself?"

Sighing, she mumbled: "Fine."

He smiled naïvely.

However, Hermione snapped her head up, catching sight of his smirk before he stowed it away and glanced at Ron. Hermione, confident in his averted attention, glanced down surreptitiously when a parchment zoomed into her hand. With a mutual smirk, one that rivaled the devil's, she tucked it away into the security of her robes before turning to smile benevolently at her friends.

She waved their offer of company away, excusing herself, albeit genuinely, with a letter to her parents. They nodded obediently and swept out with waves, salutes, and a promise that they will meet her in the Common Room. Civilly bidding them farewells, confident that they had disappeared, she smirked as she slipped the parchment out of her pocket.

Honestly, she had never been grateful for their imperviousness.

Hastily tearing open the parchment, vacant of sanity at the moment, Hermione relished in her moment of victory for a second - a mere second - for when she successfully unfolded the parchment, her insides boiled until her emotions were thoroughly void of significance.

The letter read:

Dear Hermione,

Nice try.

Harry and Ron

And the rational Hermione ruffled the owls' feathers with her cry of exasperation, causing the territorial creatures to hoot, and even award her with a slap of waste on her shoulder.

Suffice to say, the meeting in the Common Room was tempting to become the third Wizarding war.

* * *

><p>Later that night, with Hermione vowing her silence, she scribbled banal facts about Charms down on a parchment, obdurately ignoring pleads and apologies from the idiots sandwiching her on her armchair. She didn't bother a glance, but their incessant pleads were setting coal into the thirsty flame, and Hermione, taking a leaf out of her parents' books, closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and counted to ten. Warily, she squinted open her eyes and elicited an exasperated huff.<p>

They were still there.

After countless fruitless attempts, she heard the two sigh and move to occupy themselves, and Hermione had never felt as satisfied as she leaned back to rest her head comfortably.

Honestly, they deserved it.

"Hermione?"

Hermione blinked as she turned to identify the source. She hoped she wasn't dreaming, but when she turned around, she caught sight of a half-amused, half-exasperated Ginny, and Hermione had never felt grateful to see her.

Composing herself and straightening up, Hermione greeted her welcomingly while shooting a glare at Harry and Ron; they were still in her vision, but they were sitting on the other side of the Common Room. Reverting her attention to Ginny, she sighed and attempted a weak smile as Ginny settled herself into an armchair.

"Oh, hello, Ginny," Hermione greeted with an audible sigh, and Ginny smiled sympathetically.

"Rough day?"

"Rough _week_," she emphasized irritatingly, shooting a glare at the two again before reverting her attention to the red-head, who was fidgeting in her seat. "Thanks to those two. Honestly, I haven't a clue of what they're up to, and they wouldn't even _tell _me. I mean, it's not as if I'd tell the whole school about it."

"No, of course you wouldn't―"

"―or Dumbledore―"

"―not even him―"

"―then why―?"

"Listen, Hermione―"

"―and you!" Hermione's eyes widened dramatically at her friend, causing Ginny to flinch.

"Er ― what?"

Hermione astutely concluded that her friend was nervous, a peculiar habit for the bold red-head. Glancing back to Harry and Ron, she noticed that they were watching the scene from the corner of their eyes, and Hermione reached a conclusion as she slowly turned to narrow her eyes at her friend.

"You–you tricked me!" Hermione accused, a scowl present on her stubborn countenance.

Ginny, however, rolled her eyes; honestly, Harry and Ron were naïve if they thought getting past Hermione was going to work. "Aright, they set me up, but Hermione―"

But Hermione stopped listening; she glared at Ginny as she brought her book forward, thoroughly ignoring Ginny's existence.

"Oh – come on, will you just _listen_?"

Silence.

"Don't you want to know what they're planning?"

Hermione peeked up from the cover of the book, but at the sight of Ginny smug look, she scowled and brought the book back in front of her face. "All _I _want to know, is how I'm going to finish my Potions essay for tomorrow. And shouldn't you be worrying about your OWLs? They're this year!" Hermione reproved as she watched Ginny shake her head in defeat and stalk away.

Meanwhile, Harry and Ron watched Ginny grimace their way, mouth a dry "good luck", and disappear up to her respectful destination, and the two avoided the other's gaze as they wordlessly immersed themselves in their studies, impervious to the irony that Hermione was displaying as she muttered incessantly without attention to her studies.

* * *

><p>Later that day, a touching scene greeted the night owls of the Common Room, with Harry and Ron prominent in this role. Glancing at each other, they furtively approached the dozing Hermione, wary of treading on a loose branch, and the sight dismayed them to say the least, for they were ready to reveal their intentions for frustrating her.<p>

However, they had to relent to the morning.

Adjusting a pillow, Harry attentively guided her head onto the couch to make her position more comfortable while Ron tended to her feet and removed the herd of parchments and books dispersed throughout the couch. They concluded it with a transfigured blanket. On stealthy toes, they intentionally left a stray on the small table in front of her and left yawning silently.

When Hermione woke the next day, she yawned and rubbed her weary eyes as she reluctantly reached to shove the blanket away; however, she halted in midst of this action; she was still wearing her school robes and the sun hadn't emerged quite yet.

Bewildered, she concluded that she had fallen asleep on the couch as she caught sight of her belongings on the table. She didn't thoroughly assess who tended to her, she knew who had, and she felt the slight grudge fade significantly.

Glancing at her watch, she assessed that she had time to finish her essay, and when she inadvertently reached for the wrong book, she frowned at the sight clutched in hands.

Hermione blinked as she encountered a parchment attached to a – box? She wasn't sure. Grabbing the parchment first, she unrolled it, and blinked once, twice, thrice at the message.

Dear Hermione,

Happy birthday! Sorry for the trouble.

Your friends,

Harry, Ron

Her eyes widened and her clever mind struggled to fuel her mind with logic. However, the futile effort resulted in a flood of emotions as she attentively opened the seal to the package. Inside, she saw that it was a book, and – much to her irritation – her lips trembled when she read the title:

The Irks and Wonders of Friendship

By the time Harry and Ron had descended the stairs, permeated with gloves, scarves, and hats, Hermione had already finished the book. When they warily approached, she snapped her head up, elicited a watery smile, and wrapped her arms around the bashful Harry and Ron. When she whispered: "thank you", and pulled back, Ron, feeling the atmosphere was a bit too emotional, couldn't help but interpose.

"You're not still mad, are you?"

And his duty was fulfilled when Harry shook his head and Hermione laughed.

"Happy birthday, Hermione."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Welcome! Yah, bad timing, sorry. Anyway, I've always wanted to write a "Trio" fix, particularly with these suckers, but what can I say? I've been timid.

Funny thing, I was formulating the story and actually began writing when I looked at the calendar and saw that it was Hermione's birthday Friday. So, inadvertently, (sowwy Hermy) this story is dedicated to the austere but wonderful Hermy! (I know I wouldn't have the time to write on her b-day, so I published it a little early :p)

Happy birthday!

Side note: my humor is a bit quirky so I apologize in advance if you didn't laugh. (Sucks for yah, heh) Oh, and by the way, I do support Hermy and Ron, so if you're wondering otherwise, just remember, I can edit this. (Hah)

Please **review** in honor of Hermy, please. ;)

JK.

Please **review** in honor of me. (Don't do it)

Please **review** for JK.


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